


It Doesn't Change Anything. Except It Might.

by suckitdomitian



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 10:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2188128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suckitdomitian/pseuds/suckitdomitian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After months in a military prison with only the occasional visits from May, Coulson, and Talbot to keep him company, Ward gets an unexpected visitor. And an even more unexpected revelation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Doesn't Change Anything. Except It Might.

Military prison wasn't that different from the Academy, and Ward's time here reminded him rather eerily of his first year at Operations. Barracks rooms were similar to the cells, just minus the bars, and Ward could swear that the food was actually better here. Reading, exercising, isolation, those had been his primary activities at the Academy since the idea of friends had been taken off the table with his promise to Garret to remain unattached, and his activities were similar here because the prospect of making friends with these people was...unappealing. Not that he'd been given many opportunities to anyway, alternating between the prison hospital and solitary confinement. The montony had been broken up occasionally with visits from May and Coulson attempting to get something useful out of him, or Talbot trying to cut a deal with him so that the _right_ people got to HYDRA first. As if Ward gave a damn about either of their crusades.

In all his time here, though, however many months it had been, those three had been the only outside faces that he'd seen. That was, until today, when it was Trip standing there to greet him when he was dragged out of his cell into the box that they liked to call an interrogation room. Of all the people Ward had expected to see pop up at some point once they were given permission, Trip had been the last on the list. The two had known each other. It was unavoidable, being the same age and in the same discipline at the Academy, and while their operational contact had been minimal, there had been just enough for them to become familiar. Of course, familiar didn't translate into fond beyond the most superficial sense, so what Trip was even doing here was still a question. The others had a reason to be attached even if they also had a reason to hate. Seemingly, all Trip would have is the reason to hate.

And yet, here he was. His expression was inscrutible, a frustrating thing for Ward as Trip was usually so easy to read. What with being someone who wore his heart on his sleeve, Trip had rarely seemed to see any point in guarding his emotions. But it looked like some things had changed. Unless it was a quietly building fury, though, even as inscrutible as he was, he didn't seem angry. So Ward waited, staring down the other man as he was shackled to the chair intended for prisoners. It was an unwritten rule in situations like this that whoever spoke first was not the one in charge of the conversation, and he'd had enough control taken away from him as of late. He didn't want to lose any more of it to Trip, of all people.

"You look well."

"I look like shit, and you know it," Ward countered, wincing as the guards finished off his cuffs before leaving the room. SHIELD interrogations, even if they were no longer official, were always private. "Head shaved against my will, no access to anything sharp to clean myself up with because I'm a security risk. Another few months, and I'll look like the unabomber. Cut the bullshit pleasantries and tell me what you want, Trip."

In all the time Ward had known Trip, however loose an acquaintanceship it had been, he'd only ever seen the man look serious a handful of times. Even on the few missions that they'd run together, prior to him being assigned to Coulson's team, he'd been the one on comms trying to keep everything light. But right now, with Ward's sudden demand, his expression could cut glass.

"Fitz woke up."

Three words. With three words, Trip had completely eliminated any worries that Ward had had over why Trip was there. Sure, there were still questions and concerns that could be raised, like why it was Trip who was delivering this news rather than Coulson or May or even Jemma, but right now, Ward didn't care. Whatever the reason he was the one here, that news was more than worth it. Coulson had never given him specifics on Fitz's condition, had flat out refused, telling him that it was fitting that he be left to worry with no solid information, and May had just scowled when he'd asked her to at least tell him whether it was life threatening or not. But now, he could relax because it wasn't life threatening. Fitz was going to be all right. He hadn't killed him. He hadn't... That was why it was Trip here.

"They didn't want to tell me. Did they?"

It was a simple question, but there was a pain underneath of it, hurt and disappointment that either of them, Coulson or May, could stoop that low even in the face of what he'd done. They knew that he cared, that it was killing him, and they had been more than happy to let him stew in that. The expression Trip's face shifted into, a sort of shameful grimace, at his question had said it all.

"He's not going to die," Trip said, covering his mouth with a hand as he leaned forward on the table between them. "It's not good, but he's not going to die. And I thought you deserved at least that much, okay? Whatever it was that you thought you were doing for Garrett, I saw you with them. You can't fake that. Though, I guess, _you're_ supposed to be able to, Mister Second Only to Romanoff in Covert Ops."

Ward snorted, shifting against the cuffs holding him to the chair as he shook his head, "I never liked those comparisons. You get used to lying when you're younger, and after awhile, you just get good at it. That's all there is to it."

"About that."

"Trip."

"No, look. There was a lot that didn't add up when I was looking into you, and I didn't think much about it at the time, but..."

"Leave it," Ward said, feeling a defensiveness rise within him, a defensiveness mixed with a slight sickness. Nobody, in his entire time in SHIELD, had questioned the dossier that Garrett had created for him. Nobody had taken a second glance at the fact his juvenile record had been scrubbed clean barely a month before applying for the Academy or double checked with anyone at the military school who would have known that, despite a full transcript and proper graduation requirements being on file, he was expelled after barely one semester. Nobody had even bothered to check in with his family, who by this point likely thought he was dead and buried somewhere after his juvie jailbreak, and yet, ten years after the fact, Trip was here trying to point out that 'things didn't add up'. Of course they didn't add up. "None of it's going to make any difference now."

"Except it might," Trip said, raking a hand across his face before resting it on the back of his head as he looked across the table at Ward. "Okay. Truth? It's more than just Coulson and May not wanting to tell you. Fitz is still convinced something had to have happened. And look, whatever it was, if there was something, I get trying to keep it to yourself, especially if you think it's not going to change anything. But just level with me here. I got to take something back to him. Am I on the right track?"

Ward shifted in the chair again, growing increasingly uncomfortable from more than just the shackles that were holding him in place. He wasn't look at Trip anymore. His gaze had been fixed rather firmly on the crack since he'd last opened his mouth, not really able to look at Trip or admit to himself how much this was exactly what he'd been hoping someone would ask...over a decade too late. "Ask May for my file," Ward said, the words hollow, strained, but he wasn't sure he could openly provide much more than that. It hurt too much to think about, someone who barely even knew him putting the pieces together. "You're smart, Trip. You can figure it out from there."

"That's a yes, then," Trip said. There was a lengthy silence, with Trip shifting to try and catch Ward's gaze before he gave up and stood, moving around the table to Ward, snagging the man's chin in his hands and pulling his distance gaze back into reality. "Whatever happened doesn't change anything, Ward. You still did what you did. And you're going to have to learn how to live with that. But maybe, just _maybe_ , you're not the only one in this situation that did some betraying."

As Trip released his chin, Ward looked up at him, brow furrowed in question, but Trip continued before he could even ask.

"SHIELD was supposed to have our backs. If there was something going on, something that was so bad that you're not even willing to look me in the eye to tell me what it was, they let you down as surely as you let down all of us."

And with that, Trip's focus was no longer on Ward. Crossing to the interrogation room door, Trip banged on it twice, calling the guards back inside to unbind Ward and take him back to his cell. As the guards undid the chains, though, Ward's attention lingered back to Trip, even as the other man steadfastly refused to acknowledge him, with a questioning gaze. Of all the people Ward had thought would care, Trip had been the last on the list.


End file.
